Broken
by IAmTheAnimeQueen
Summary: Someone once told me, "at some point, you have to realise that some people can stay in your heart but not in your life." Unfortunately, he can't stay in either one. And because of him, I won't let anyone else to, either. But then "he" had to come along and the rules slowly started to change.
1. Chapter 1

_"She is playing a game that she doesn't want to play, but she can't seem to quit."_

 _~Unknown_

 **TRIS:**

Love.

Is.

Dead.

It's hopeless, weak and non-existent. And it's also disappointing to see so many people believing in it.

The truth is, it's just a figment of everyone's imagination.

You might _think_ you love a person. But you actually don't.

I mean, get real. There will _always_ be someone else: someone who is younger, someone sexier, someone more wealthier...

Out there in this world, there will _always_ be someone who is better than _you_. And that's the truth.

That's not love.

It's _lust_. It's _attraction_. And it's the closest thing you'll get to "reality".

Too many people tend to confuse the two for this _'love'_ that they claim exists, but it's not. _'Love'_ isn't real.

You can go ahead and try to fight me on this, but it won't change a thing. At the end of the day, hearts still get broken, the ability to trust diminishes and it's all because this idea of _'love'_ that deceives millions and millions of people.

I've got to admit though, I admire its power.

But do you want to know why?

Do you want to know why it's deception is so powerful?

It's because we're human.

And gullible.

And desperate.

We're desperate to be the _only_ one who could make a person smile.

We're desperate to feel that to someone, _we_ are the most important thing in their life.

This idea of _'love'_ is driven by the desire and need to feel wanted; both in body and in spirit. That's where desperation comes in.

But it isn't possible.

You can't satisfy both, not when physical attraction dominates **every**. **single**. **time**.

And you know what? It doesn't help that we live in a generation that exalts a person for having _'si_ _de pieces'_. That's why the closest contact of satisfaction that I will ever allow for myself, are one night stands.

I'm not proud of it, but it does the job. There are no strings attached, no misunderstandings and it satisfies my body's needs when it arises.

It didn't used to be like this though.

As life would have it, people aren't just born with a mindset and belief such as that. I'm no exception. I, too, grew up with the fantasy that I'd find someone I'd hopelessly fall in love with. I, too, had dreamt that we'd live happily ever after in a world deemed perfect.

But perspectives change.

I guess that tends to happen when, at a young age, your dad breaks your heart before any guy could get the chance to.

* * *

 **A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading my very first story on this site!**

 **I know it's a bit ( _very_ ) short, and OOC, and dull(?) but I guess there's a bit more to it. I am, however, debating on whether I should just leave this story as a one-shot because honestly, this was just a random rant that was going on in my head. There really was no plot, which is kind of boring, I admit.**

 **But please do tell me what you think though, I don't mind if you flame me :)**

 **Till next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading the next chapter of 'Broken'. A little warning, there's a curse word at the end of this chapter and the last line had been a direct reference from a book I studied in English called ' The White Tiger'. Just thought Id throw that in there. Also, I know that Four doesn't show up in this chapter but he will in the next. I promise! This chapter is just to brief everyone on Tris' life so far. **

**Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Recitals. School dances. Basketball tournaments... My father was never there at any of these events. He never showed up. He was a ghost.

It was like he **_purposely_** missed them.

And I found out soon, that he actually did.

I'd stand behind the curtain of the stage, glance into the crowd and _**only** _see my mother's pained smile. Her expression was apologetic for my father's absence but I never blamed her.

I couldn't. It wasn't her fault he was always away on business.

But that was a complete lie.

We found out about that after one of my dance recitals.

We had retired home earlier than expected that night, just to find that my father's car was parked in the driveway. My mother was successful in keeping quiet. But when I look back to it, I wished that she hadn't.

That way, I wouldn't have had to see what I did: my father and a brunette woman... both in a position I never imagined possible, both in a position a 6 year old should never have had to see.

And my mother thought the exact same.

She hugged me so quickly that the speed of her actions gave me a momentary shock. Her arms wrapped tightly around me as my body slammed into hers, my head burying into her chest in the process. She was blinding me; not from the fact that what my father was doing was inappropriate for a young child, but because he was with another woman.

A woman that was **_not_** my mother.

Her earlier expression at seeing them, had also not been one of shock, which surprised me. But it confirmed that before that, she had had her suspicions.

Yet even when, her body still shook. That was enough to give away the fact that she was holding back tears.

That night, I couldn't sleep as easily. I was emotionally drained and the constant shouts that echoed from downstairs didn't help my case at all. If anything, it worsened as the volume increased to a maximum. Loud screams, doors slamming, a car starts up... It was a miracle I even got some sleep in (though that occurred more towards the morning). Tears had streamed down my face like the never ending flow of a river. It stained my cheeks a hot pink. My face felt like it was burning. Not even the cool surface of my pillow could stop the stinging pain.

There was a certain line that my mother had yelled at my father and it was one that I would always remember.

 ** _"I don't care about your pathetic affairs",_** she had screamed, **_"but if_ my _daughter witnesses something like that_ ever again, _I will ruin you!"_**

I don't know why those words stuck with me ever since. Maybe it's because, for a moment, she chose me over him.

Or maybe... it was because that **_wasn't_** the last time I witnessed my father's affairs.

At my 7th birthday party, he was found with another woman in one of the bathrooms in our home.

When I was 8, and had just finished my basketball game, he was late in picking me up. When he finally did arrive, his tie was loose and his hair, a mess. His clothes were wrinkled and his sleeves, rolled up to his elbows.

I wasn't surprised. Anyone could've guessed his reason for being tardy.

But I was beyond unimpressed. Why?

He had actually had the **_audacity_** to show up with swollen lips and lipstick stains trailing from his neck, down to his collarbone. And not a single hint of shame was displayed on his face. He either didn't care, or didn't notice. But whichever it was, we could deduce one thing from that: he was stupid.

And I knew he wasn't with my mother either. She was away in Florida that weekend, on business. And I knew for a surety, that that was the truth: that she was really on a business trip.

At least, there was one parent I could trust.

You see, my mother was a person of loyalty. You could trust with her anything. The extent of her loyalty was beyond imaginable. But that was also a downside to this trait of hers.

Because of this loyalty, she stayed with him. For **_my_** sake.

She wanted me to, at least have a **_complete_** family: a mother **_and_** a father.

She wanted me to feel that family could be the one consistent thing in my life; that if everything else fails, I could always turn to family.

That I could depend on it.

But that was already too late. I had already seen how broken our little family was.

Did she think that because I was a child, I wouldn't notice?

It's too bad I did.

I didn't want to, but I did anyways. Children always pick up on the smallest of things. We notice everything.

 _ **I**_ noticed everything; the way they slept in different rooms, the way they sat as far away as possible at teacher-parent conferences, the way I always had to sit in the middle of them because in all honesty, I was the **_only_** link between my parents.

I noticed, I just didn't say anything. Were there any words, anyways, to describe what I was seeing? What I was feeling?

Finally, at the age of 10, they went through with a divorce. It's upsetting to say that I foresaw it. It wasn't a surprise at all.

When my father, at last, left and without a single glance back, my heart broke into a million pieces, like the shards of a mirror after being violently smashed and shattered. Regardless of how much I despised him, I still bawled my eyes out, the pink stains returning to decorate my face.

He was supposed to be my first love, the one who would hold my heart until I found another who could the job, just as well as he did.

And that's why I guess, it hurted so much... because he **_was._**

And yet he didn't even do his job.

I loved him despite his abundance of flaws and yet he still left, so easily.

After that, I only then started to notice how weak my mother actually was. The past years had slowly debilitated her. Her spirit was already beginning to tire and she was weakening in the mental and social aspects of her life. To the rest of the world, she was appearing to be emotionally dead.

She tried to hide that from me too.

But she couldn't.

The walls of our house couldn't deafen her cries and sobs of pain. Her facade couldn't hide the fact that she was breaking inside. Her face was quickly losing life and her young aged appearance couldn't cover that up.

Not to me, it couldn't.

My father had drained her: from the hairs of her head to the soles of her feet. He wore her out and she was bleeding from every pore. She worked herself hard, day and night, focusing all her energy in her work just to numb herself, to numb every feeling.

I learnt **_that_** from her.

My one night stands numb everything for me, temporarily.

At times, I feel like it was my fault.

Was I the reason they married in the first place?

Was I not enough for **_him_** to stay?

Was I not enough for **_her_** to be happy? Wasn't that one of the miracles a child could do to a single parent: to bring them joy despite how much of an **_asshole_** your partner might have been or are?

Did I fail as a kid?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I'm not even sure I could count myself as a kid.

A child, up to a certain point, is supposed to be the most innocent being on the Earth. With that being said, should a child have had to witness her father's affairs on multiple occasions? How about the ongoing battles of her parents? Or perhaps even the divorce?

Did my parents taint innocence? More so, my father?

Some children may never have to witness any of these and I **_truly_** envy them. How I wish I could be in their shoes.

Others, may have it worse and my heart bleeds black and blue for them.

Because it honestly sucks.

The impact it has on lives, is great in quantity. I speak from firsthand experience.

Because of my mother, I've learnt to hide behind walls I've built for myself. Because of her absences, I'm free to do whatever, and not all of my choices have been great. I know that.

Because of my father, _'reality'_ was slapped in my face so early in life. The truth was spilled and my first heartbreak was experienced. It was experienced from a person I should have never experienced it from.

Because of my father, trusting became so much harder for me.

And because familial love had never been present from the start, every other love, for me, is dead as well - whether they be friendly or romantically.

They're all the same. They will all fail. All of this, I owe to my father who proved that love...

... was a **_fucking_** joke.


End file.
